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Grosse Pointe Blank

Marty: Debi's house.
Paul: Kinda crept up on you, didn't it?
Marty: No, you drove us here.
Paul: [pause] Yep.

Marty: Did you go to your high-school reunion?
Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everybody had swelled.

[Talking to his psychiatrist about going to his high school reunion.]
Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?"

Marty: This your Beamer?
Paul: Yeah.
Marty: In Detroit? That's sacrilege!

Mr. Grocer: After we do your job, we're gonna do another job.
Marty: Tell me about it.
Mr. Grocer: Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your fuckin' forehead, and I'm gonna fuck the brain hole!

Debi: Some people say forgive and forget. Nah, I don't know. I say forget about forgiving and just accept. And... get the hell out of town.

[repeated line]
Marty: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there.

Bert Newberry: "Oh what a piece of work is man, how noble"... Ah, fuck it! Let's have a drink and forget the whole god-damned thing.

[To her son.]
Mary Blank: You're a handsome devil. What's your name?

[To Debi's father, while fleeing from Grocer.]
Marty: I was hired to kill you. But I'm not going to. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or I have a newfound respect for life.
[In pursuing car.]
Mr. Grocer: That punk's either in love with that guy's daughter or he's got a newfound respect for life.

[Martin gives Debi a bouquet of flowers.]
Debi: I'll go put these in some rubbing alcohol.

McCullers: You got any ideas how you wanna wax this guy?
Steve: Can't you just say 'kill'? Ya always gotta romanticize it.

Dr. Oatman: Martin, I'm emotionally involved with you.
Marty: How are you emotionally involved with me?
Dr. Oatman: I'm afraid of you.
Marty: You're afraid of me.
Dr. Oatman: And that constitutes an emotional involvement, and it would be unethical for me to work with you under those circumstances.

Marty: You don't know my cat. It's very demanding.
Debi: "It"? You don't know if it's a boy or a girl?
Marty: I respect its privacy.

Marty: Why are you so interested in me going to my high school reunion?
Marcella: I just find it amusing that you came from somewhere.

Debi: So, what have you been doing with your life?
Marty: Professional Killer.
Debi: Oh...you get dental with that?

Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.

Marty: Thousands of innocent people die every day. Detonate one rich guy's dog, and you're a marked man for life.

Marty: It's true what they say Oatman, you can never go home again, but I guess you can shop there.

[after his secretary pissed him off]
Marty: Marcella... you know what I do for a living.

Bob: Real smart. C'mon. Let's see how smart you are with my foot up your ass!

[Repeated line]
Marty: It's not me.

Debi: You're a psychopath.
Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for *money*. It's a *job*. That didn't come out right.

Mr. Grocer: Workers of the world, unite!

Mr. Grocer: [singing] I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be whackin' your fuckin' mind out when I come.

Paul: Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater.

Marty: I'm a professional killer.
David: Do you have to do post-graduate work for that?

Paul: Ten Years!! Ten! Ten Years!!

Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with yourself?
Marty: Uh, professional killer.
Mr. Newberry: Good for you. Growth industry.

Amy: What do you do?
Marty: I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southlands.

Waitress: What do you want in your omelette, sir?
Marty: Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all.
Waitress: Well, that's not technically an omelette.
Marty: Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein.

[Into the mirror, preparing for his high school reunion.]
Marty: Hi, remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Dr. Oatman: Don't kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like.
Marty: I'll give it a shot.
Dr. Oatman: No, don't shoot anybody.

Debi: Where are all the good men dead, in the heart or in the head?

Mr. Newberry: Did I have you figured wrong?
Marty: I don't know - I mean I hope so.
Mr. Newberry: I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek.
Marty: No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenery sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships. How about you - how have the years been treating you?
Mr. Newberry: Well you know me Martin - still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed...
Marty: Sure.
Mr. Newberry: Ah what a piece of work is man, how noble... oh fuck it, let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing.

Mr. Grocer: This is Durazac 15, kid. It makes Prozac seem like de-caf latte.
Marty: I don't do that stuff anymore.
Mr. Grocer: Don't say "do it," because I don't "do it," I *ingest* it, on orders of my neurophysiologist. This stuff is legal. In five years they'll be putting it in the water for citizens, just like fluoride.

Kevin McCullers: Man, why don't we just do his job, so we can do our job and get the fuck out of here?
Steve: What do you mean, "do his job?" What am I, a cold-blooded killer? I'm not a cold-blooded killer.
Kevin McCullers: Now, wait a minute --
Steve: No, you wait a minute. You want to kill the good guy but not be the bad guy. Doesn't work like that. You have to wait until the bad guy kills the good guy, then when you kill the bad guy, you're the good guy.
Kevin McCullers: So -- just to clarify -- if we do his job we're the bad guys, and if we do our job we're the good guys.
Steve: Yes.
Kevin McCullers: That's... great.

Marty: Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone -- except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner.
Dr. Oatman: O.K., repeat after me. "I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure."
Marty: I am at home with the me, I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure.
Dr. Oatman: Good. Now take a deep breath, and realize that this is me breathing.
Marty: Wait, I'm confused. Do you want me to say it or do you want me to realize it?
Dr. Oatman: What?
Marty: About the breathing.
Dr. Oatman: Say it.
Marty: This is me breathing.
Dr. Oatman: Good, now keep doing that for about twenty minutes.
Marty: Listen, I got to go.
Dr. Oatman: O.K. Keep it up. Don't kill anybody.
Marty: Right!
[Hangs up.]

Marcella: Sir, I'm really beginning to worry about your safety.
Marty: Look, I got to go.
Marcella: Yeah, we all got to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when.
Marty: No one chooses when.

Marty: A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life.

[Practicing in a mirror before his high school reunion]
Marty: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I -- and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough.

Marcella: You can take care of business and stop by Grosse Pointe for your reunion --
Marty: Look, Sgt. Pepper, I really need you to shut up about that.
Marcella: Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home and they want to delete someone while you're there.

Marcella: It's out of my hands. The Gods want you to go back to Michigan, and they want you to delete someone while you're there.

Marty: I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore.

Debi: Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone.

Ken McCullard: I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury.
Marty: They all seem kinda related.

Marty: I'm sorry if I fucked up your life.
Debi: It's not over yet.

Mr. Grocer: Hey, if you're lookin' for a father figure I'll give you a spankin'!

Mr. Grocer: Easy there Chief, I don't see Hollow-Point Wound Care on the menu.
Marty: Why are you in Detroit? Redwings need a new goon?

Bob: I'm drawing a complete... Blank.

Debi: I should have worn a skirt.
Marty: I should have brought my gun.
Debi: What was that?
Marty: Should be fun!

Debi: You're a fucking *psycho*.

Marty: Don't rush to judgement on something like that until all the facts are in.

Debi: Okay. So. You're back... a decade late, and... you're on some sort of therapeutic assignment, and you want to sort things out with me. So the question now becomes, do I allow you access to me or... do I call security?
Marty: I don't think that'd be a good idea.

Debi: Next caller, you're on the air.
Nathaniel: Debbie? Man, it's Nathaniel. Uh, I don't hear any real remorse, dude, I mean, like, I don't think I'd let him back into your life. And dude, I'd make him wear that prom dress!

Paul: Okay, well, I'll see you at the "I've peaked and I'm kidding myself" party.

Debi: How come you never learned that it was wrong? That there are certain things you do not do, you do not do in a civilized society?
Marty: Which civilizations are we talking about?
Debi: Oh, shut up!
Marty: I mean, history...
Debi: Shut up!

Steve: Tell you what, why don't I take the weekend off and *you* kill him, since you two are so close?

Marty: What about those two guys in a Caprice Classic outside? The word is you turned two Governments on me, you turncoat.
Mr. Grocer: Me?
Marty: You.
Mr. Grocer: Go G?
Marty: Yes.
Mr. Grocer: On you?
Marty: Yes.
Mr. Grocer: Never.

Marcella: Don't hang up! Wait! Did ya' read yesterday's offer?
Marty: Hold on a minute.
Marcella: It's in French. It's a Greenpeace boat. It'd be so easy.
Marty: No way! I have scruples.

Marcella: Sir, they're very unhappy.
Marty: I'm very unhappy.
Marcella: It was supposed to look like a heart attack, he was supposed to die in his sleep!

Debi: If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's, well, broken.




	Home Jokes Film Quotes Boss Alert News Forum Links		Back to - Film Quotes - G Grosse Pointe Blank Marty: Debi's house. Paul: Kinda crept up on you, didn't it? Marty: No, you drove us here. Paul: [pause] Yep. Marty: Did you go to your high-school reunion? Marcella: Yes, I did. It was just as if everybody had swelled. [Talking to his psychiatrist about going to his high school reunion.] Marty: They all have husbands and wives and children and houses and dogs, and, you know, they've all made themselves a part of something and they can talk about what they do. What am I gonna say? "I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How've you been?" Marty: This your Beamer? Paul: Yeah. Marty: In Detroit? That's sacrilege! Mr. Grocer: After we do your job, we're gonna do another job. Marty: Tell me about it. Mr. Grocer: Like I'm gonna put a bullet hole in your fuckin' forehead, and I'm gonna fuck the brain hole! Debi: Some people say forgive and forget. Nah, I don't know. I say forget about forgiving and just accept. And... get the hell out of town. [repeated line] Marty: If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there. Bert Newberry: "Oh what a piece of work is man, how noble"... Ah, fuck it! Let's have a drink and forget the whole god-damned thing. [To her son.] Mary Blank: You're a handsome devil. What's your name? [To Debi's father, while fleeing from Grocer.] Marty: I was hired to kill you. But I'm not going to. It's either because I'm in love with your daughter or I have a newfound respect for life. [In pursuing car.] Mr. Grocer: That punk's either in love with that guy's daughter or he's got a newfound respect for life. [Martin gives Debi a bouquet of flowers.] Debi: I'll go put these in some rubbing alcohol. McCullers: You got any ideas how you wanna wax this guy? Steve: Can't you just say 'kill'? Ya always gotta romanticize it. Dr. Oatman: Martin, I'm emotionally involved with you. Marty: How are you emotionally involved with me? Dr. Oatman: I'm afraid of you. Marty: You're afraid of me. Dr. Oatman: And that constitutes an emotional involvement, and it would be unethical for me to work with you under those circumstances. Marty: You don't know my cat. It's very demanding. Debi: "It"? You don't know if it's a boy or a girl? Marty: I respect its privacy. Marty: Why are you so interested in me going to my high school reunion? Marcella: I just find it amusing that you came from somewhere. Debi: So, what have you been doing with your life? Marty: Professional Killer. Debi: Oh...you get dental with that? Debi: You know what you need? Marty: What? Debi: Shakabuku. Marty: You wanna tell me what that means? Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever. Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think. Marty: Thousands of innocent people die every day. Detonate one rich guy's dog, and you're a marked man for life. Marty: It's true what they say Oatman, you can never go home again, but I guess you can shop there. [after his secretary pissed him off] Marty: Marcella... you know what I do for a living. Bob: Real smart. C'mon. Let's see how smart you are with my foot up your ass! [Repeated line] Marty: It's not me. Debi: You're a psychopath. Marty: No, no. Psychopaths kill for no reason. I kill for money. It's a job. That didn't come out right. Mr. Grocer: Workers of the world, unite! Mr. Grocer: [singing] I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be comin' around the mountain when I come / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be blowin' your fuckin' head off / I'll be whackin' your fuckin' mind out when I come. Paul: Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Hey Jenny Slater. Marty: I'm a professional killer. David: Do you have to do post-graduate work for that? Paul: Ten Years!! Ten! Ten Years!! Mr. Newberry: What have you been doing with yourself? Marty: Uh, professional killer. Mr. Newberry: Good for you. Growth industry. Amy: What do you do? Marty: I work at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I sell biscuits and gravy all over the Southlands. Waitress: What do you want in your omelette, sir? Marty: Nothing in the omelette, nothing at all. Waitress: Well, that's not technically an omelette. Marty: Look, I don't want to get into a semantic argument, I just want the protein. [Into the mirror, preparing for his high school reunion.] Marty: Hi, remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough. Dr. Oatman: Don't kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like. Marty: I'll give it a shot. Dr. Oatman: No, don't shoot anybody. Debi: Where are all the good men dead, in the heart or in the head? Mr. Newberry: Did I have you figured wrong? Marty: I don't know - I mean I hope so. Mr. Newberry: I visualised you in a haze as one of those slackster, flannel-wearing, coffee-house misanthropes I've been seeing in Newsweek. Marty: No no no, I went the other road. Six figures, doing business with leadpipe cruelty, mercenery sensibility. You know... sports, sex, no real relationships. How about you - how have the years been treating you? Mr. Newberry: Well you know me Martin - still the same old sell-out, exploiting the oppressed... Marty: Sure. Mr. Newberry: Ah what a piece of work is man, how noble... oh fuck it, let's have a drink and forget the whole damn thing. Mr. Grocer: This is Durazac 15, kid. It makes Prozac seem like de-caf latte. Marty: I don't do that stuff anymore. Mr. Grocer: Don't say "do it," because I don't "do it," I ingest it, on orders of my neurophysiologist. This stuff is legal. In five years they'll be putting it in the water for citizens, just like fluoride. Kevin McCullers: Man, why don't we just do his job, so we can do our job and get the fuck out of here? Steve: What do you mean, "do his job?" What am I, a cold-blooded killer? I'm not a cold-blooded killer. Kevin McCullers: Now, wait a minute -- Steve: No, you wait a minute. You want to kill the good guy but not be the bad guy. Doesn't work like that. You have to wait until the bad guy kills the good guy, then when you kill the bad guy, you're the good guy. Kevin McCullers: So -- just to clarify -- if we do his job we're the bad guys, and if we do our job we're the good guys. Steve: Yes. Kevin McCullers: That's... great. Marty: Oatman? Don't hang up. Listen, I didn't kill anyone -- except some guy tried to kill me, so if I see that guy again, I'm definitely gonna kill him, but I'm not going to kill anybody else. I'm on my way to the reunion now with Debi, but I'm just a little nervous, and I'd like to do a phoner. Dr. Oatman: O.K., repeat after me. "I am at home with the me. I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure." Marty: I am at home with the me, I am rooted in the me who is on this adventure. Dr. Oatman: Good. Now take a deep breath, and realize that this is me breathing. Marty: Wait, I'm confused. Do you want me to say it or do you want me to realize it? Dr. Oatman: What? Marty: About the breathing. Dr. Oatman: Say it. Marty: This is me breathing. Dr. Oatman: Good, now keep doing that for about twenty minutes. Marty: Listen, I got to go. Dr. Oatman: O.K. Keep it up. Don't kill anybody. Marty: Right! [Hangs up.] Marcella: Sir, I'm really beginning to worry about your safety. Marty: Look, I got to go. Marcella: Yeah, we all got to go sometime, sir, but we can choose when. Marty: No one chooses when. Marty: A thousand innocent people get killed every day! But a millionaire's pet gets detonated, and you're marked for life. [Practicing in a mirror before his high school reunion] Marty: Hi. I'm, uh, I'm a pet psychiatrist. I sell couch insurance. Mm-hmm, and I -- and I test-market positive thinking. I lead a weekend men's group, we specialize in ritual killings. Yeah, you look great! God, yeah! Hi, how are you? Hi, how are you? Hi, I'm Martin Blank, you remember me? I'm not married, I don't have any kids, and I'd blow your head off if someone paid me enough. Marcella: You can take care of business and stop by Grosse Pointe for your reunion -- Marty: Look, Sgt. Pepper, I really need you to shut up about that. Marcella: Sir, it's out of my hands. The gods want you to go back home and they want to delete someone while you're there. Marcella: It's out of my hands. The Gods want you to go back to Michigan, and they want you to delete someone while you're there. Marty: I was sitting there alone on prom night, in a goddamn rented tuxedo, and my whole life flashed before my eyes. And I realized finally, and for the first time, that I wanted to kill somebody. So I figured since I loved you so much, it'd be a good idea if I didn't see you anymore. Debi: Everybody's coming back to take stock of their lives. You know what I say? Leave your livestock alone. Ken McCullard: I do divorce mainly, some property, some personal injury. Marty: They all seem kinda related. Marty: I'm sorry if I fucked up your life. Debi: It's not over yet. Mr. Grocer: Hey, if you're lookin' for a father figure I'll give you a spankin'! Mr. Grocer: Easy there Chief, I don't see Hollow-Point Wound Care on the menu. Marty: Why are you in Detroit? Redwings need a new goon? Bob: I'm drawing a complete... Blank. Debi: I should have worn a skirt. Marty: I should have brought my gun. Debi: What was that? Marty: Should be fun! Debi: You're a fucking psycho. Marty: Don't rush to judgement on something like that until all the facts are in. Debi: Okay. So. You're back... a decade late, and... you're on some sort of therapeutic assignment, and you want to sort things out with me. So the question now becomes, do I allow you access to me or... do I call security? Marty: I don't think that'd be a good idea. Debi: Next caller, you're on the air. Nathaniel: Debbie? Man, it's Nathaniel. Uh, I don't hear any real remorse, dude, I mean, like, I don't think I'd let him back into your life. And dude, I'd make him wear that prom dress! Paul: Okay, well, I'll see you at the "I've peaked and I'm kidding myself" party. Debi: How come you never learned that it was wrong? That there are certain things you do not do, you do not do in a civilized society? Marty: Which civilizations are we talking about? Debi: Oh, shut up! Marty: I mean, history... Debi: Shut up! Steve: Tell you what, why don't I take the weekend off and you kill him, since you two are so close? Marty: What about those two guys in a Caprice Classic outside? The word is you turned two Governments on me, you turncoat. Mr. Grocer: Me? Marty: You. Mr. Grocer: Go G? Marty: Yes. Mr. Grocer: On you? Marty: Yes. Mr. Grocer: Never. Marcella: Don't hang up! Wait! Did ya' read yesterday's offer? Marty: Hold on a minute. Marcella: It's in French. It's a Greenpeace boat. It'd be so easy. Marty: No way! I have scruples. Marcella: Sir, they're very unhappy. Marty: I'm very unhappy. Marcella: It was supposed to look like a heart attack, he was supposed to die in his sleep! Debi: If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's, well, broken.